


Aware.

by hennethgalad



Series: Hador Lórindol. [14]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Reference to Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Fingolfin reads the thoughts of two prisoners to see who is telling the truth.(for the SWG 'sitcom' challenge 'Sophisticated as Hell')(Reading 'Orcs' first would enrich this)





	Aware.

  

   Fingolfin sighed as he opened the doors of his rooms; there was an Elf in the tower, locked away, as though he himself had become like the Enemy, taking prisoners... But what was he to do ? The Elf was accused of torture, and of being a spy for the Enemy. The other Elf, if such he still was, after the horrors that had been inflicted upon him, had been placed in the care of the healers, but Fingolfin could scarcely imagine that he could ever be made to resemble the Elf he had once been. The mutilation... He sighed again, and closed the doors, then turned, and felt his heart lift as though the sun had risen within him.

   Hador was there, asleep on one of the couches, his arm, and his long golden hair hanging down to rest on the deep blue rug. Fingolfin almost danced across the floor, and sat beside his beloved, and stroked the warm back. Hador sighed peacefully in his sleep, then stirred and awoke.  
   "My lord !" he said, then yawned, blushing, and struggled to sit up. But Fingolfin took him in his arms and stroked his hair.  
   "Oh Hador, I know that it is wrong of me, but I am so overjoyed to find you here..."  
   "It is I who do wrong. But she sent me away..."  
   "Again ? What have you done now ?"  
Hador sucked in his breath, Fingolfin loosened his arms and looked at the fair face, still puffy from sleep. The surge of love choked him, he lifted his hand and laid it on Hador’s cheek, and felt his beloved lean into the caress with a sigh.

   "It is only... She knows that we... She knows... But we... I thought that I could love her as we do, but... but it is not so. Alas...  
   I am a fool, I do not know my own heart, or, or rather, I did not, until I was wed. And now... She will... She was packing to leave ! Oh Fingolfin !" The large blue eyes gazed into Fingolfin's, and Fingolfin wondered at himself, at the madness that drove him to care only for this mortal, while all around him the endless weight of duty crushed him. There was so much to do, so many people waiting for him to hear their problems, as though he were Manwë and could gesture grandly and reshape the world...

   He silently cursed his brother, for... for everything. He himself should never have been put in this position, he had not been prepared, he was not suitable, he did not wish it... But Hador was gazing anxiously at him. He sighed and smiled.  
   "Dear Hador. What then ? You are young, you will learn to know yourself in time, and Gildis, well, she has music in her heart, it is a language in itself, that neither you nor I can speak with any skill. She will find what she seeks elsewhere, as you have. You cannot force yourself to love, nor would one so proud as Gildis accept such counterfeiting. Come, let us walk in the garden, and feel the sunlight banish all our doubts. For I too have my troubles, and must clear my mind to learn the answers."

 

   There were dancers rehearsing in the courtyard, dressed in comfortable old clothes, laughing and jesting as the exasperated choreographer darted about, lifting an arm here and straightening a leg there. They paid little heed as Fingolfin, smiling, led Hador through into the quiet of the East Garden. The fresh green scent of herbs rose to fill the air as they strolled along the winding path, and across the paved court around the fountain. On the far side, under a living arch of Estë's Candles, whose yellow flowers hung thickly around them, they sat on the stone bench, carved from the living rock, and Fingolfin sighed contentedly.

   "This is such a peaceful garden. I do not think we have been here together ?"  
Hador snorted with suppressed laughter "We have been to Himring and back, but no, we have not been here. Alas, we seem to spend all our time in bed !"  
   Fingolfin turned slowly and stared at him with wide eyes. "Do you mind very much ? I hope you do not feel insulted, or that I think of you only as a toy..."  
Hador laughed and looked down at his hands, clasped on his knees "No my lord, I am not insulted. But I am... I am married, I am considered a man among men now, and I must turn my mind to other things than mere pleasure. I must look to my wife, I must bid farewell to my mother..." his voice tailed off. Fingolfin laid a hand gently on his shoulder, and when Hador turned to him, he kissed him softly.

   Hador sighed "I wish you could come with me. My mother would love to see you before... But of course you cannot."

   Fingolfin looked at the sparkling fountain, tinkling into the wide shallow basin of silver before flowing away to the south, down the hill towards Serech, and Sirion, and the sea. He thought of Hador’s mother, aged by disease, soon to perish, and vanish from the world, and his heart wrung with pity for her, for Hador, for all the fleeting mortals, and for himself, besotted with love for this mortal.  
"I would bid farewell to your mother. But you are wise to see that I cannot travel with you. You must take Gildis, and be the proud husband, the loving son and the dutiful heir to your father. And soon, in a month, perhaps, unless I hear grave tidings urging me to haste, I shall call upon your father, and see your mother."  
   Hador sat up eagerly "You will really come to our house ? Oh Fingolfin ! My mother will be so happy ! She pretends not to care, but I know that secretly she listened as eagerly as did I to the tales of my great grandfather, and would have loved to sit here with us, in your scented garden, by that pretty fountain."  
   Fingolfin laughed "I have been to your house many times, although..." He thought back, it had been sixty years since last he had been to the House of Malach Aradan, and Malach himself was long dead. He frowned, the fact of death was as a thorn in the foot, pain at every step, but every step a new shock. He put a hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, then shook himself, as though to scatter his doubts.

   But Hador slid an arm around his waist "Oh Fingolfin, you are fretting about me being mortal again, I can tell. I know very well when last you came to our house, for I have heard the tale many times ! I know where you sat, what you ate, and how kindly you thanked my great grandmother. But will you truly come ? How happy my mother will be !"  
   Fingolfin turned and kissed him again, then smiled "You thank me for doing as I most wish. For though we must be naught but friends before your people, yet still, my love for you is such that merely seeing you will make me happy. Besides, I have not met your mother, and I must know what kind of woman could bring forth such a jewel of a son."  
   Hador smiled and looked down "Sometimes I think you love me too much. Or perhaps it is the Elven way of courtship, to speak in such... so flowery..."

   Fingolfin stroked his hair, but did not answer. He knew enough of his own heart to know that the death of Hador, when it came, would be a darkness to him as grim as the fall of the Trees, but that need not trouble Hador. Yet still, in the sunlit garden, with the distant laughter of the dancers drifting through the warm air, and the bees humming around them, the thought of life without Hador was as the threat of ice at nightfall in his heart. He shook his head, thinking of the mutilated Elf, who had truly known pain and suffering, while he himself had had little more to deal with than cold, and the deaths of his father and brother. Eru alone knew what the mutilated Elf had lost, or who he mourned. Hador, sensing his mood, gripped him tightly.

   "What ails you, dear Fingolfin ?"  
   With a sigh, Fingolfin told him of the two Elves, one as ruined as an Elf could be, the other untouched, it seemed, though perhaps evil at heart, and of the decision that faced him. But Hador frowned at him. "Well, but why do you not simply look into their hearts, read their thoughts as you read mine, and then you will have no doubts."

   Fingolfin gaped at him. It was unthinkable; the privacy of the mind was the most sacred thing, the first law of the Elves, the law that needed no writing down, it was unthinkable...

  "I cannot ! We never... We do not... It cannot be done."  
  Hador breathed out sharply, and leaned back in his seat, stretching his long legs before him, sending a white butterfly fluttering away.  
   "But surely, if they are innocent, they will have nothing to hide.  
Does it hurt your people ? I mean, if you did not tell me that you could do it, I would not know that any of you had read my thoughts. But it seems to me that these Elves could be a danger to you, to us, and if you are merely being polite, then I think you are being foolish."

   "Polite ! But that is how we know that we are not becoming like the Enemy ! If we became like him, he would triumph without our ever striking a blow against him. We would no longer be Elves at all."  
   "No, that is not it. You open your minds to friends, to family, to those you love. These Elves would be welcomed here, they would be friends. Let them act as friends, and make the gesture of trust."

   Fingolfin was silent for a time. The words of Hador made sense, but his own heart revolted. The difference between them was an abyss, as wide as Belegaer, as cold as Helcaraxë, as dark as starless night. It was unthinkable.

   It was obvious...

   "By Manwë the all-seeing ! I wonder... Elbereth... Do you truly believe that I could do this thing ?"

   "Do I ? But what other course lies before you ? Murder ? If you release them, and they are guilty, or even if one is guilty, and there are innocent people slain by your, your politeness, then you will have a part of that guilt.  
   Come, surely you see that you must know the truth, and you can ! You need only search their hearts, and the truth will be plain. My lord, I do see that you were raised thinking of such a deed as deeply wrong, but surely it is far less wrong than letting an orc loose in Barad Eithel !"

   "But... Oh Hador, I cannot explain to you... We are what we are. But it is a terrible thing to ask an Elf to do. You cannot know how terrible. I fear... I fear what I will think of myself. I fear what others will think of me. I fear what I may become, once I have stepped onto such a path, away from the light."  
   Hador gaped as though he would speak, then sighed and bowed his head.  
They were silent for a while, warm in the sun that did not reach their hearts. At last Fingolfin sighed himself "Very well, I shall attempt this thing. But you also are a leader, and I would have you witness my folly, lest the worst befall us. I would have you see the cost of reckless deeds, and save you from grief to come."

 

   They waited in the council chamber while guards fetched the unscathed Elf, who walked free amid four of Fingolfin's tallest warriors. He stood anxiously before Fingolfin, who smiled politely at him, and offered him a seat.  
   "You are Bergil, of the House of Finrod ?"  
   "Yes, my lord."  
   "Well, Bergil, you have been accused of abomination, but you deny any guilt."  
   "Sire, I am no more guilty than you. That other... that... he lied, my lord. You should ask him what he has done."

   Fingolfin turned to Hador who stood behind him. Hador nodded once, encouragingly, his face pale but determined, a rare frown marring his lovely face. Fingolfin recalled Aradan, and suppressed a smile, then turned back to Bergil.  
   "Though it is contrary to all custom, and may be considered contrary to Elfdom itself, it is in my mind to examine your thought, to test your word. You must consent to this. I understand that you might need time to consider such a shocking proposal, and I grant it freely. You may return now to the room we have given you, until you have chosen your course."  
   "You would read my thought ? I... My lord, I would gladly submit to any such matter, for I know the truth of my heart, and I would have you see for yourself. Besides, I trust that you will also examine the other... the liar ! For then you will know what he is ! Sire, I am ready now, I need no time to prepare, I have naught to hide, do you see for yourself, here I am, as I have said, an Elf, honest and true !"  
   Fingolfin sat back and sighed "I am delighted to hear you speak thus. You will understand my hesitation, of course, but this thing must be done. Come, stand before me. My mind is not the keenest at this, I must touch those I would read, to truly see what must be seen."

   Bergil leapt to his feet. Fingolfin rose slowly, turned to smile at Hador, who smiled briefly in return, his jaw clenched, his eyes thoughtful and intent. Finally Fingolfin stood facing Bergil, and touched the side of his forehead with two fingers.

  
   The storm of thought swept him away, Nargothrond was about him, Helcaraxë, and the dark march through the north of Valinor. The burning ships were there, and Tirion, and the Trees, and a laughing mother, and two smiling sisters, and a kindly father, with sparkling grey eyes.  
   But in the foreground a dark shadow was cast like a black cloth before a sunlit window, for Bergil had been in Thangorodrim. Fingolfin gritted his teeth and let the memories fill him and rush through him and away, like a rain-swollen stream coursing vigorously down the mountain. But the water was clear, Bergil stood proudly before him, his head up, his eyes as clear as his heart, an Elf unblemished.  
Fingolfin searched the open mind before him and found nothing, no false note, no hint of darkness, not the least blemish nor shadow stained the character of Bergil.  
  
   He was innocent. Meredhil had lied.

   Fingolfin sighed and stepped back. Hador was beside him, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to his seat, and holding a goblet to his lips. Fingolfin smiled up at him. "Thankyou Hador, all is well." Hador stepped silently back, relief smoothing his face, as Fingolfin turned to Bergil.  
   "Welcome to Barad Eithel, Bergil of the House of Finrod. This is Hador Lórindol of the House of Malach Aradan, whom I love like a brother.  
   Your heart is pure, I ask your forgiveness for our caution. But we are very near to the stronghold of the Enemy here, and we can never cease our vigil.  
You may stay here with us, or go where, and when, you please."  
   Bergil sagged, then fell to his knees, tears spilling from his shining eyes.  
  "Sire ! My lord ! And you, Hador Lórindol ! I thank you both, with all my heart, and pledge my service to you. Whatever need you may have of me, I shall oblige with a willing heart !    But... But if you would truly release me from the service I now owe you, then I would return at once to Nargothrond, where my family and friends await me, or at least, I hope that they do, for I do not know what word has reached them of my fate." He stopped, his head bowed, one hand on his forehead in turmoil of heart. Fingolfin rose and lifted him to his feet.  
   "Go now, Bergil, with my blessing, and speak to our kin Finrod Felagund, and tell him of what has been done here today. Tell him... Tell him that I must hear his thoughts on this matter, for I trust him, as the son of Finarfin, to know more clearly than all others, whether I have done right. I would hear his least doubt, tell him, the faintest hint of discomfort. For who shall guide us now, so far from the Wise, so far from..." he stopped and smiled at Bergil, who was blinking at him, wiping away tears, and smiling incredulously.  
   "Oh my lord, sire, I... Thankyou ! Thankyou so much ! I shall sing your praises to Felagund until he tires of hearing your name. And thank you, Hador Lórindol, I wish I could bear to wait, and come to know you a little better, but my family have been too long in pain, and I would spare them further grief."

   When he had been led away, Fingolfin dismissed the attendants and stood before Hador, who took him in his arms and held him close. Fingolfin was surprised to find himself weeping, but Hador stroked his hair, and hushed him as a frightened child. After a time, warm and safe in his lover’s arms, he felt himself settle into the stillness of peace, and finally sighed and spoke.  
   "I too must thank you, Hador Lórindol. Many people have been made happy today by your courage. I would not have considered such a course without you. Your mortal spirit saw through to the heart of the problem, where my Elven caution would have left poor Bergil languishing in the tower, and his family grieving his loss, or awaiting in anguished hope for his return. But you were right.  
   And now that I have seen his heart I am glad to have heeded your words. Will you now accept that you do have somewhat to offer my council, that you are worthy to take your place at my table, and that your worth has been witnessed and affirmed ?  
   Hador swallowed and looked into the eyes of the High King, and nodded silently. But Fingolfin grinned, and held him close, and kissed him hungrily.

 

   Maledhil was seated before a laden table by an open window in the House of Healing. Hador’s breath hissed between his teeth at the sight of the ruined face, or the little that could be seen of it between the bandages. Fingolfin gripped his arm for a moment, and tried to brace himself for what he feared must happen. For while it seemed clear that Maledhil had lied when he accused Bergil of torture, it might be that he was merely confused, or mistaken, and could yet be innocent.  
   

   Fingolfin sat opposite the bandaged Elf and smiled politely.  
   "Have my people been tending your wounds ?"  
   "Sire, I find that pains have gone that I had ceased to notice, it is a marvel ! I can never adequately express my gratitude for your kind hospitality, I shall always be in your debt, and offer you my service, if you would have it."  
   "Thankyou Maledhil, I shall remember your words." Fingolfin gestured Hador to a seat. "This is Hador Lórindol, of the House of Malach Aradan, a mortal, and a member of my council. He has come to witness my questions."  
   "Of course sire." Maledhil bowed to Hador, who nodded coolly, causing the faintest narrowing in the eyes of Maledhil. "I will answer all that I am able sire, you may depend upon it."  
   Fingolfin poured wine for himself and Hador, and refilled the goblet of Maledhil. When they had drunk a little, he looked directly into the reddened eyes of the stranger.  
   "Maledhil, I would read your thoughts. I would know the truth of your accusations against Bergil before I proceed."  
   Maledhil swallowed, but his expression did not change. "Read my thoughts sire ?" he said with polite surprise "Is that your custom ? It was not so in Vinyamar. I do not know. Do you doubt my word ?"  
   "It is a question of risk. Should I release you, and you prove false, many lives may be lost. I understand the discourtesy you feel I offer you, but I must insist that you undergo this... this invasion of your privacy, for the sake of our people."

   Hador moved slightly, they turned to him, and he nodded to Maledhil. "You have expressed your gratitude to the High King. You have offered him your service. When he asks for your help, you should be eager to oblige."  
   Maledhil looked from one to the other, then smiled his cracked smile. The scars, and the bandages, moved awkwardly. Fingolfin felt a cold loathing creep across his skin, and wished to flee the mere sight of Maledhil, but he rebuked himself, and sat up straight, and looked sternly at Maledhil, waiting.  
   "Sire, forgive my hesitation. I have endured things... Well... You can see... As you please, my lord, I shall submit."  
    Fingolfin nodded, and reached out across the table. Maledhil held himself still, looking into the eyes of the High King as Fingolfin touched his forehead, bracing for the storm.

 

   It was so dark that Fingolfin found himself carried back to the fall of the Trees once more; but this was not the darkness of Valinor, it was a darkness of the spirit, of the heart, filled with rage and terror. There was a presence, not Elven, nor yet Mortal, but something far greater. Fingolfin could sense it, cloaked in shadow, a hidden menace, resisting his probing thought.  
   Maledhil made a slight sound, Fingolfin felt his thought draw back, his concentration wavered, but he forced himself to push deeper into the darkness. It was like the ride of Oromë, far from Ezellohar, when the beast lurked nearby, and the hunters exchanged glances in silence, and every tree was a threat.

   With the suddenness of a blast of lightning, the mind of Maledhil opened, but no light shone within. The memory of pain gripped Fingolfin, and the sights and sounds and stench of the dismemberment of people’s living flesh gripped his heart with hands of ice. He clung to the thought that Hador was near, though from within the mind of Maledhil, Hador seemed less than a dream, more distant than the stars of Varda. Fingolfin scarcely had words to describe the things he saw done, the tools he saw used on people, the myriad methods of cruel pain. He hurried past, feeling despair reach out for him, knowing that not only in the mind of Maledhil, but nearby, across Ard-galen, in Thangorodrim, the hell of iron, such atrocities were at that moment being done, by living beings, to other living beings.

   Fingolfin could scarcely endure the thought. He wished to block out everything, Maledhil, Thangorodrim, himself, everything. How could people act in such ways ? What could drive a person, who understood pain, to inflict such agony on another ? How could it be ? How could Eru have made the world so ? It was intolerable. His mind recoiled, but he could not pause. He writhed internally, in anguish at the mere thought, crushed by the burden of memory in the tortured mind of Maledhil. But he knew there was more to find, the sense of the presence lurking in the black shadows hung over him, a weight of horror and dread. He clenched his teeth and thrust onward into the darkness.  
Maledhil jerked, though Fingolfin did not lift the pressure of his concentration enough to discern whether the flinch had been of the body or merely the spirit. He was close to the presence, fighting his way through choking darkness, tearing aside foulness, and horror, and the sick stench of malice.  
  
There it was. Fingolfin could not discern the shape or form, nor imagine its purpose, but he was aware of the hatred, and the great power that had buried itself deep in the mind of Maledhil, watching from within. The presence was aware of Fingolfin, and was seeking him, as he sought it. The darkness thinned, though no light grew, Fingolfin felt that he was approaching the core of Maledhil, and a memory of his own stirred within him. He recalled the House of Nienna, and the time his mother had taken him to see the famous Windows, which looked outwards from the Walls of the World. The void had been there; the void was everywhere, all around Eä, but only in the House of Nienna could it be perceived by the Children of Ilúvatar.  
   And here it was again, within the presence, within the mind of Maledhil, within the house of Fingolfin. And on an instant, the last veil was torn aside, and the black terror reached for his mind like a striking serpent, like lightning without the light; and Fingolfin leaped aside, shouting in horror and loathing, and felt himself crumple, and knew no more.

 

   When he opened his eyes, Hador was there, stroking his brow and watching him anxiously. Fingolfin smiled weakly, and Hador gave a great sigh. "Forgive me, my love, I did not understand. I should never have suggested such a course of action, I had no notion of the harm I was doing to you."  
   Fingolfin smiled and struggled to sit up, but Hador pressed him gently back down. "Rest now, all is well. You have been... you have been lost for more than an hour, I have been frantic with fear that you would not return. But the healers laid their hands upon you, and sang to you, and even I felt soothed by their music. You seemed to ease then, and where you had been rigid and frozen, like one dead for many hours, you became peaceful, as one who merely sleeps.  
   By the Valar I am glad to see you awaken ! Oh Fingolfin ! Forgive me !"  
   "Dear Hador..." Fingolfin said, but was appalled by his voice, harsh and croaking. Hador picked up a goblet and held it to his lips, and he sipped at the strong drink. It was some brew of the healers, steeped with pungent herbs, and Fingolfin found his chest ease, as the breath came coursing into him. He took a deeper draught of the drink, and found the darkness fall away from his thought, as he looked up at the concerned face of his beloved.  
"Oh Hador, there is nothing to forgive ! You did not understand, but I did. It was the right thing to do. Bergil is free, and we now know that Maledhil is a spy, and not to be trusted." He paused. Hador had turned away, and half risen to his feet, but then sat down again, and laid a hand on Fingolfin’s chest. Fingolfin smiled at him, and laid his own hand on Hador’s, and gripped it gently. But Hador was pale, and Fingolfin lifted his head "What is it ? Do not tell me that I was mistaken, for nothing could have been clearer than his guilt, nor the innocence of Bergil !"  
   "No, no, it is not that. You were right, of course."  
   Fingolfin pulled himself upright and leaned back against the cushion. He was on a couch in the House of Healing, in another room. "What has Maledhil said ? Does he make excuses ? Have you taken him to the tower ? Oh Hador, what shall we do with him ?"

   Hador grimaced and shook his head. "My lord. Sire. You did not see him. Your eyes were shut fast, you did not see. But we did, your guard, the healers, and I. We saw you, we saw him...  
   He recoiled from your mind, and you kept on, and then suddenly his face changed, he... he snarled, sire, but it was strange, at least to me, for you were moving aside even as he lunged forwards, it was, I was, I am very impressed sire, truly, you moved aside faster than I can say, and he was there, with a knife in his hand, thrusting it at you, and even as I drew my dagger, the guards slew him, and I left him to them, and hurried to catch you. You fell senseless into my arms, and I carried you through here, and watched over you while the healers restored you to yourself.

   Oh Fingolfin ! Promise me that you will never do that again ! You were swift enough, but if we had not been there, you would have been helpless, senseless, and he would have slain you himself, or worse !"

   Fingolfin looked at Hador in shock "Dead ? They have slain him ? In the very House of Healing ? When I had pledged to protect him ?"

  
   "Sire, consider your words ! He was attacking you with a knife ! Had I moved faster, I would have slain him myself. Had the guards not been so very swift, he would have slain you. You did not see him. But we who did cannot regret our deeds. You may feel anger with me, if it please you, but I urge you to show gratitude to your guards, for my sake if no more, for without them, you would be dead."  
   "Now you must forgive me, Hador. No, you must not listen to me, I am not myself yet, the horror of that void of a mind has shaken me deeply. I wish I need not have seen it. You are right, I must thank the guards. But first, let us return to my room, I would rest. And let them be given the finest wine, and a message of my eternal gratitude, and..." Fingolfin felt his eyes begin to close. Hador took him in his arms and held him close.  
   "All shall be as you say, my lord. Rest now, all is well. I am here. I shall not leave you, nor allow any harm to come to you..  
   Fingolfin sighed, Hador was so staunch, so sure of himself, so comforting. He twined his finger in a strand of the long golden hair and smiled. "Lórindol..." he whispered, and slipped back into sleep.

 

 

 


End file.
